A Wild Ride: Our Blog

Returning from a week's vacation (more on that later), I panicked when I saw 382 email messages waiting for me in my Inbox. As I sifted through the junk mail my Spam filter did not pick up, the work email, the personal email and the school email, I came across this gem from The Pile I'm Standing In author Jen Zug. Enjoy this gentle reminder to slow down. ~ Elizabeth

Teachable Moments

One day a few weeks ago I was busy preparing our family of four to go on a five day camping trip. It often feels like my kids' clingy-ness is exponentially related to my inability to make time for them. They can sense that I don't have time for snuggles, which only makes them more demanding for a snuggle.

On a beautiful day when she would otherwise be content to play in the yard, my four year old daughter, Ruthie, was particularly clingy to me in the house. She whined, she begged to be held, she pushed her brother and made him cry, and she threw her toys around angrily.

Exasperated and stressed about managing her while still trying to Get Things Done, I needed a little perspective, so I phoned my husband for help. "Why don't you set the timer and give Ruthie fifteen minutes of your undivided attention?" he suggested. "And then move on to the next thing you have to get done."

I was skeptical at first, and prepared myself for the mile she would take at the offering of my inch.

Ruthie chose for us to color together during our fifteen minutes. She had her coloring book, I had mine, and we shared the crayons while we talked. As expected, Ruthie's arm began venturing over to my page as she attempted to make dark scribbles across my picture. Expecting this behavior from her, I blocked her hand and reminded her that she had her own page to color. Again, she tried to mark my page.

Feeling the anger swell in me, I fought against the disappointment of not having a 'normal' daughter who can participate in an activity without being destructive. I was sure our fifteen minutes would end with frustration, screaming, tears, and a time out – and that was just how I was feeling!

But this time something gripped me – likely the silence in my mind of not feeling like I was supposed to be doing something else, as this was fifteen minutes of time I had dedicated to Ruthie. As she once again tried to mar my page, I engaged her in conversation about her behavior - something I normally don't have the patience to do in my chronic multi-tasking.

"Ruthie, when you try to ruin my picture by marking across the page," I said, "it makes it not very fun to be around you."

Silence.

"Instead of trying to destroy my picture," I continued, "why don't you focus on creating your own picture? It's much better to be a creator than a destroyer."

She seemed to be warming up to this idea, and didn't bother my picture again. We continued coloring and talking, and when the timer went off I returned to the kitchen to make dinner without protest from the kids.

So much of my frustration in parenting a challenging child stems from my own impatience with her, and from my lack of focus on the moment. I have resisted the idea that parenting Ruthie takes more patience, more focus, and more organization than other children, or even than her brother.

But on this day I learned the value in slowing down. It opened the door for a teachable moment.

Photo © Scott Rothstein - Fotolia.com